Almost Forever (29 page)

Clay stood back from all the commotion a little, watching Andie smile and laugh, seeing how she charmed everyone. And feeling thoroughly charmed himself. “She's a captivator, our Andie is,” his great-uncle Jerry whispered slyly in his ear.

Clay gave the old man a smile. “Yes. She is.”

Uncle Jerry ran his liver-spotted hand over the crown of his head, as if smoothing his hair back, even though he was totally bald. “If I were thirty years younger…”

“You'd still be married to Aunt Bette,” Clay reminded him.

Uncle Jerry guffawed. “Damned if you ain't right, my boy. Damned if you ain't right. And where is that wife of mine, anyway?”

Clay pointed to a chair by the wall, where Great-aunt Bette was sitting with another of the great-aunts. Uncle Jerry tottled off in their direction.

“She
is
looking better, don't you think, dear?” Clay's mother, who'd appeared at his side out of nowhere, asked him in a hushed tone.

Clay nodded.

“Did you get her something nice?”

“Mother.”

“What?” Della's eyes widened in an expression much too innocent for a woman who was almost sixty years of age. “What did I do?”

Clay just looked at her, a look of great patience.

“Well, I was just checking.”

“I gave her a huge bonus.”

His mother beamed. “That's wonderful. She can use that.” But then she frowned. “But it's not very personal.”

“Mother,” Clay said again.

“Oh, all right. All right. I'm minding my own business. Starting now.”

“That's good news.”

“But Andie
is
looking lovely…”

“Yes, she is.”

“And I…oh, never mind.” She shook her head distractedly and wandered away to talk to her own mother, Granny Sid Santangelo, who was sitting on the couch, holding forth to
anyone who would listen about how things used to be and ought to be again.

For the next couple of hours, Clay wandered from room to room, listening to the conversations, answering his relatives when they asked him questions and following Andie with his eyes.

She was so many things to him. His cousin. The passionate rival of his youth. His crackerjack, indispensable office manager.

And now there was more.

He'd always known she captivated people. People called her appealing and engaging and fun. He'd seen the way she charmed everyone, so they let her get away with things that Clay would never have been allowed to do. He'd resented her for her ability to enchant—at the same time as he'd called himself immune.

But now, he realized as he watched her opening her presents, oohing and aahing over each and every one, he
wasn't
immune. He wasn't quite sure how it had happened—something about the baby probably, and all the buried pain and memories the baby's existence had stirred up.

Whatever. The point was, it
had
happened. It was as if he had spent twenty years keeping an invisible wall between himself and the awareness that she was someone he could desire. And then, last night on a side street in his hometown, he'd suddenly discovered that the wall was gone. He didn't even know exactly when he'd let it crumble. But it wasn't there now.

The facts ran through his mind.

There was no blood tie between them. They were a great team at the office. If they married, the family would be thrilled and the baby would have a father.

Hell, for the baby's sake alone, it was certainly something to consider.

“Deep in thought as usual,” a rough voice behind him remarked.

Clay turned, already smiling. “Johnny.” Johnny Pardo still wore his hair too long and preferred black leather jackets and battered jeans to respectable clothing, but other than that he was all grown up now. Ten years ago, he'd shocked everyone at Meadow Valley High by marrying Andie's best friend, Ruth Ann Pagneti. Everyone had said that the marriage would never last, that Ruth Ann was a smart-mouthed, sheltered schoolgirl who knew nothing about real life, while Johnny was surly and troubled and would never settle down.

A decade later, they were still going strong. They had two boys. Johnny owned and ran a franchise convenience store and coached little league in his spare time.

“I gotta have a smoke,” Johnny growled.

“I thought you quit.”

“I did. I quit more than any guy I ever met. Come outside with me. If Ruth Ann sees me, I'm gonna get the look.”

“What look?”

“The how-can-you-hurt-yourself-this-way-you're-hurtingall-of-us-who-love-you-too look. I can't take that. I just want a puff or two.”

Clay went out in the chilly backyard with Johnny. He watched as Johnny lit up, and tried not to smile at the absurdly ecstatic smile on the other man's face as the hazardous fumes filled his lungs.

“We are talkin' nirvana, man,” Johnny remarked. “So what were you thinkin' about in there?”

“Hell. Life.”

“That deep, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Your cousin looks good.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“You don't think so?”

“No. I think so. I think she looks great.”

Johnny blew out smoke through his nose and then chuckled. “Remember that time I took her riding on my motorcycle and you got all hot and bothered about it?”

“I remember.”

“I always thought you had a thing for her.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding.” Johnny dropped his cigarette to the grass, stepped on it and then carefully stowed the smashed butt in his jacket pocket. Then he launched into one of his favorite subjects: the Bulls and the Suns. A few minutes later, Ruth Ann appeared.

“There you two are. I've been looking all over.” She marched up to her husband and put her arm through his. “P.U. Cigarettes.”

“Gimme a kiss.”

Ruth Ann groaned, but she did lift her mouth. Her husband lightly pecked her lips. She turned to Clay, her dark eyes dancing, her pointed chin high. “He adores me.”

“I can see.”

“Come on inside now. Both of you. Andie's going to cut the cake.”

 

There were twenty-eight candles on the chocolate fudge cake that Aunt Thelma had baked. Andie's hair was loose, in a dark cloud around her face. She had to gather it up in a fist, and hold it at her neck so it would be safe from the lit candles.

Aunt Thelma urged, “Hurry up, they're melting.”

Andie's face glowed as she bent over the yellow flames. She closed her eyes.

“Andie…”

“Shh, quiet, Mom. Let me make my wish.”

A hush fell over the room. Clay watched Andie's wish take form as a slow, secret smile made her glowing face shine brighter still.

“There,” she said, with quiet satisfaction, her eyes still shut. “I see it. Just the way I want it to be.”

“Then hurry…”

“All right, all right.” She opened her eyes and sucked in a huge breath. And damned if she didn't get every last candle at one try.

Everyone applauded and Andie cut the cake.

Clay took his piece and sat in the living room near enough to Granny Sid that he had to listen to a long diatribe about the youth of today and how there was very little hope for them. When he'd finished his cake, he got up and solemnly told her that she was absolutely right—things were not what they had once been.

Then he kissed her wrinkled cheek. “See you later, Granny Sid.”

Her little black eyes impaled him. “You're a smart boy, Clay.”

“Thank you, Granny.”

“Maybe too smart for your own good.”

“Now what's
that
supposed to mean, Granny?”

“Stop thinking so much,” Granny advised. “Give your heart a chance to talk.”

He chucked her under her wattled chin. “What would a heart say, Granny, if it could talk?”

Granny cackled. “See there, see what I mean? You don't even believe that a heart can talk, now, do you?”

He considered teasing her some more, but decided to answer honestly. “No, Granny. I'm afraid I don't.”

She shook her head. “Then what more can I say? We're talking different languages. But that's all right. You just go on. I know you're in a rush. Young people. Always in a rush.” She patted him on the arm, dismissing him as if he were still ten years old and waiting for her permission to go outside and play.

He found his aunt Thelma before he left.

“Great cake, Aunt Thelma.”

“Have another piece.”

“No, I've got to go.”

“What's your hurry?” Andie was suddenly beside him, grinning up at him, her midnight hair a halo around her face, the scent of her like roses and peaches combined. How could he have known her all these years and never noticed the enticing, wonderful way that she smelled?

“I've really got to go.” He cringed at the lame sound of his own voice.

Andie leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “You'll be sorry. Aunt Bette's going to be getting out her ukulele any minute now.”

The same thing that had happened on the street last night occurred again. He felt himself growing hard. It took all the will he possessed not to turn his head and capture her mouth.

Somehow, he managed to remember himself enough to back away from her a little and give a low groan. “That settles it. I'm outta here.”

Thelma patted his shoulder and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for coming, Clay.”

“I enjoyed it.” He turned to Andie. “Walk me to my car?”

She blinked and her soft lips parted in mild surprise. The request had been just a fraction out of the ordinary. He was only one guest of many, and she saw him nearly every day.

“Oh, go on with him, honey,” Aunt Thelma said.

“All right.” Andie's face was composed again. She smiled and hooked her arm through his. “Let's go.”

Clay felt the warmth of her against his side. It was good, he decided. It was
right.
It was as it should be.

They walked down to the foot of the street, where Clay's car waited. Whatever snow had clung to the ground from the night before was gone now, melted away to nothing by the afternoon sun. Andie held on to his arm, her step in time with his.

He wondered what the hell to do.

He could kiss her. He could stop right there on the sidewalk and turn her to him. He could pull her soft body close and lift her chin with his hand.

Or maybe he should say something, something that would let her know what he was feeling, something that would communicate to her in just a few words everything that was going through his mind.

They reached the car too soon. He still hadn't figured out quite what to do, or what to say.

He turned and leaned against the passenger door. “Andie, I…”

“What?”

“Well, I…”

“Yes?” She folded her arms over her breasts and shivered a little. But she was wearing a huge, soft sweater and leggings and the sun was out. If she trembled, it wasn't from cold.

“There's something I…”

“What?” She bit the inside of her lip. Her nostrils flared, just slightly. He thought of a soft, vulnerable animal scenting a predator.

“Hell.” He only breathed the word.

“What? Clay, what is it?”

He had no words. He wanted to touch her. He dared to reach out and cup his hand over her upper arm. Her sweater was as soft as it looked. Beneath that softness, she was firm and warm. Her arm tensed under his fingers.

“Clay, what?” She backed away, out from under his touch.

“Andie…”

Clay couldn't help himself. He reached out and took her arm in a firmer grip. She stared at him, stunned. He pulled her to him.

She came, falling against him with a tiny exhalation of breath. He felt the soft fullness of her breasts against his chest.

“Clay, what is it?” She lifted her head to search his eyes. “What do you want?”

He said it. “You.”

He watched her face, watched for the signs. There would be nothing, of course, if she gave him no sign. But the signs
were
there. She didn't—or couldn't—hide them. There was that little hitch of breath, the quickened heartbeat against his own. And most important, he saw the way her dark eyes went cloudy and her lips grew suddenly soft. He took the signs into himself, hoarding them.

It was okay. She hadn't rejected him.

Very slowly and deliberately he lowered his mouth and tasted her, as he'd wanted to do back there in the house.

She sighed. He felt that sigh all through him, felt her body giving, pressed to his. He thought of roses and peaches again, thought that she tasted just the way she smelled. Her mouth, softly parted, allowed the questing entrance of his tongue.

It was silky and hot inside her mouth. So good, and so exactly what he'd imagined it might be. Yes, he did want her. Badly. He swept the sweet, moist inner flesh of her mouth with his tongue.

She moaned, low and hungrily.

And then she stiffened.

“No.” Andie breathed the word against his lips.

She gripped him by the arms and pushed herself away from him.

Clay wanted to grab her and pull her back, to take her mouth again, to savor the taste of her just a little bit more. Desire was an ache in him. But he controlled it. He was good at controlling himself, after all. And he'd found out what he needed to know.

There was a long, gaping moment of silence between them. A bird squawked at them from a wire overhead. On the street,
a pickup rolled by. Clay wondered if anyone else had driven by while he was kissing her. If they had, Clay never would have known it. He'd been oblivious to everything but the taste and feel of her.

Andie had her arms folded protectively over her breasts again. Her lips were red and full from the kiss. Her face was flushed.

“Why did you do that?” Her voice was tight.